Chapter 80 Harper
Harper
The waiting nearly broke me.
I sat by the cabin window, fingers tangled in Carter’s flannel, staring at the black stretch of trees as if I could will headlights to appear. The minutes dragged, every creak of the cabin, every sigh of the wind outside sounding like a warning.
I told myself he’d come back. He always came back. But this time felt different. This time, I knew he was walking into the core of the storm.
When tires finally crunched over the gravel drive, my breath snagged in my throat. I pressed a hand to the glass, heart slamming as the SUV rolled into view, headlights cutting across the clearing.
The doors opened one by one—Cyclone, Gideon, River. And then Carter.
He looked like he’d walked through fire. His shirt was torn, grime streaked across his face, his eyes dark with a fury I’d never seen before. But he was standing. Breathing. Alive.
I didn’t wait. I threw the door open and ran down the steps, my bare feet cold against the wood. His eyes found me instantly, and for the first time, the storm in them eased.
“Harper,” he rasped.
I slammed into him, arms wrapping tight around his waist, my face pressed to his chest. His arms came around me hard, lifting me off my feet, crushing me to him like he’d never let go again. His heart thundered against my ear, steady and fierce, and I sobbed with the relief of it.
“You’re here,” I whispered, the words breaking.
“Always,” he said, voice raw. His lips brushed the top of my head. “I told you—I’ll always come back to you.”
Behind him, the others moved past, their prisoner dragged between them, but I barely registered it. The world could burn for all I cared.
Because Carter was here. And for the first time since the nightmare began, I let myself believe we’d see more than just survival.
We might actually get to live.